Sermon for 10/14/12

1 Kings 17:17-24

Elijah Revives the Widow’s Son

After this the son of the woman, the mistress of the house, became ill; his illness was so severe that there was no breath left in him. She then said to Elijah, ‘What have you against me, O man of God? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!’

  But he said to her, ‘Give me your son.’ He took him from her bosom, carried him up into the upper chamber where he was lodging, and laid him on his own bed. He cried out to the Lord, ‘O Lord my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?’ Then he stretched himself upon the child three times, and cried out to the Lord, ‘O Lord my God, let this child’s life come into him again.’

  The Lord listened to the voice of Elijah; the life of the child came into him again, and he revived. Elijah took the child, brought him down from the upper chamber into the house, and gave him to his mother; then Elijah said, ‘See, your son is alive.’ So the woman said to Elijah, ‘Now I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth.’

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I've been married 6.5 years now. What that means is that our wedding day was a long time ago—much has happened between now and then, and I'll freely admit that I don't remember much from the hustle & bustle of the day.

So when Rachel and I were attending a wedding reception a few weeks back and the bride and groom celebrated their first dance, I wasn't sure what to think (or say) when Rachel turned to me and told me that they were dancing to the same song we danced to at our wedding. I listened for a bit and knew only one thing—I was certain that it wasn't that song. I couldn't say what song it was. But it wasn't that song.

Men, you all know the direction this is headed.

The discussion could have ended there were it not for the DVD recording we have of our wedding and the reception. There was nothing I could say in my defense, except to admit that I was wrong. I had forgotten this detail of the wedding.

In my defense, I do a pretty good job of remembering that I am married, trying to live into the promises I made on that blessed day. Remembering the promises I made, the vows I willingly took, guides my actions today. I remember that I promised to love one woman, for better or for worse, selflessly, as Christ loves the church. I remember that I am to be faithful to her, to be a source of strength and support, to grow together in faith and love. The memory of the promises I made guides me, as does the history we have. We've known each other for over ten years now, and the memory of our relationship reinforces the promises we made. I remember that she has been faithful to me, that she selflessly loves me, that she and I work together. The memory of our history reinforces the love we share now, and it also guides us through tough times. When we're upset at each other, we remember the promises we made and the history of faithfulness, and that assures us that we'll get through this together, that the good times in the past are assurance that there will be good times in the future. The memory of Rachel's continued faithfulness assures me that she will continue to be faithful. Unlike the stock market, past performance is usually an indicator of future guidance. Our common memory is an important part of our life together.

A marriage is a common analogy to a life of faith. It's an image lifted up throughout the Bible—that of God willingly choosing to be wed to the church. Christ is described as the bride of the church. So it is that memory is an important aspect of faith, too.

The word 'remember' is used throughout the Bible. It most often comes up in the journey of the Israelites through the wilderness. Remember—God did an amazing thing. He sent plagues upon the Egyptians and then parted the waters of the sea so that the Israelites would be delivered from slavery. Each and every one of them witnessed these incredible acts. But it wasn't long before their memories failed them—soon they were wondering where God was, if God would still be faithful. They forgot what God had done in the past, and without a memory of God's past faithfulness, they asked where God was now. Without a memory, you can forget that God has always been faithful, and so they complained. They cried out for God to do something. Often, God did do something, intervening to deliver the people. But they soon forgot and turned against God. In all of these times, Moses was imploring the people to remember. They needed to remember how faithful God had been, to remember all the things that God had done for them and be assured that God would not abandon them now. If God has always been faithful, Moses asked, why wouldn't he be faithful now?

Think about that for a second. If God has always been faithful in the past, why wouldn't we trust God to be faithful now? Perhaps you have a friend who is always late—say that you've known them for twenty years, and in that time they've never once been on time. If you set a lunch date with them, would you suddenly expect them to be on time? Of course not. You'd expect them to be late. In fact, you'd probably show up late yourself, knowing that you'd still beat them there. Their past history is a good indicator of what is to come.

God is the same way—our memory of God's faithfulness should inform our faith today. We can expect God to live up to his past history. So when we look back at the history of God's interactions with his people, we see a perfect track record—God has never abandoned a promise he made. God has not been unfaithful. Humans have been unfaithful, but not God. God has perfect attendance, and this should give us assurance that no matter what we're going through, God will be there and he will be faithful. Our memory of God's faithfulness informs our faith.

But human beings are imperfect. We've been imperfect ever since Adam and Eve decided that it wasn't enough to be in a relationship with God, they wanted to be gods themselves. Our memories are short—especially now, but we're not nearly as different as we want to be than the characters in the Bible. We like to think we've advanced, but the more I read the Bible the more similar we become. We often forget what God has done.

The same is true of this widow. If you were here last week, you remember hearing two things, I am sure. You remember her despair at her situation in the midst of a drought—she was gathering sticks to go home and cook her last meal for herself and her son. She had no hope in the face of a certain death. She had ceased to fight and had no one to save her. The second thing you remember is that God intervened in an extraordinary way to save her. God made sure that her meal and oil never ran out, assuring that there would be food for her and her household. So this woman went from certain death to abundant life.

Remembering all of that, we focus on this story today—another tragic story. The widow's son becomes ill. The text says that there was no breath in him. This particular illness described here in our text is an ancient illness called 'death'. It's still around these days.

What does the woman say? Does she pray for another miracle, knowing that God has already intervened to save the boy's life once? No, she grows angry with Elijah and his God, blaming him for the death of her son.

So Elijah takes the boy upstairs and prays to God. Does his prayer illustrate his memory of how God has saved the boy and his mother once? Does Elijah beg God to do an extraordinary thing once more, to bring the boy back to life and restore the hope that God initially brought to the family? No—he blames God for bringing calamity on the family. The family that was prepared to lay down and die before God intervened.

So both Elijah and the widow seem to have forgotten completely that God has already saved the boy's life once, that neither the widow nor the son would even be alive today had not God intervened. For all we know they were complaining while eating food from the miraculous jar of meal. I look at this scenario and think that God has every right to ignore these cries for help from a people of short memory.

But God doesn't do that. God hears the desperate pleas of the widow just as he hears the passionate cries of Elijah. God listens to the prayer and revives the boy, restoring hope to a household, restoring life, once more intervening and creating life, once more demonstrating his power over death.

As a result, the woman says that she knows for certain that Elijah is a man of God, and the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth.

God didn't have to save the boy. God didn't have to send life back into him. We could argue that God had already demonstrated his power and authority through Elijah by providing a meal source that never expired.

But God does anyway. And this is the core of what we're talking about today—we worship a God of abundance. God pours his grace out upon us, time and time again, even though we as a people are not worthy of it. We have short memories. We forget what God has done for us. We forget the miracles we have seen in our lives, the grace God has given so freely, and we sometimes ask with indignation where God is now. God has always been faithful to us, never abandoned us—but God doesn't cast us into the pit when we ask questions like that. The Israelites spent 40 years in the wilderness questioning where God was, and God continued to do miracles before their very eyes—indeed, God was leading them by a pillar of cloud and smoke. Every day they had a visual reminder of God's presence, and yet they often questioned where God.

But God didn't give up on them.

God doesn't give up on you, either.

When we forget all that God has done, God doesn't throw up his hands and walk away from us. When we commit the same sin for the thirtieth time, God doesn't label us as beyond grace and never look upon us again. When we forget to offer our day to Christ in gratitude for all that he has done, he doesn't cease to shower love upon us. We worship a God of abundance, a God who pours his blessings upon us before we can even think to ask for them.

But the more we remember what Christ has done, the stronger our faith grows. The better we are able to remember what God has done in human history, the more faithful our life will be today. Because then, rather than questioning where God is today, we'll be looking for where God is at work today, because history teaches us that God is always at work, that the Spirit is always moving, calling, beckoning us to follow. When we spend time learning about what God has done in the past, it teaches us that God is reliable, faithful, and will not cease to abide with us even when we are in the deepest, lowest valleys of life. God has always loved you—God has always been with you—therefore, we can say with confidence that God will be with you today, tomorrow and forever. Our memory of God's faithfulness should teach us that we can rely upon God today, here, now.

So let's work on our memory. Let's study the Bible, let's study the history books, let's listen to each other tell stories of how God has worked in the past. In all these things, may our memories guide us to rely upon God, to trust his faithfulness, and to never forsake our calling as disciples.

Let us pray